


to the moon and back

by sorrow_key



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Adventures in Semi-Reliable Omniscient Narration (melodramatic edition), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternatively titled: it's especially gay if it's on the moon, F/F, Falling In Love, Gen, Graduation Angst, Happy Ending (eventually), Michimiya's (here: former) crush on daichi is referenced but barely worth a tag, Quests, Secret Identities, Volleyball, magical amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-15 01:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21245255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrow_key/pseuds/sorrow_key
Summary: Prompt: Kiyoko Shimizu/Michimiya Yui, Moon Rabbit.Kiyoko learns the feel of the ball on her arms by heart. She learns the difficulty of bringing the strategies she knows from years of managing in line with her body, the thrill of waiting and planning where the ball would fall, the heat of exertion and the way Yui's smiles in between matches, cheeks all flushed and hair frizzled, and bumps their shoulders together.Inspired by Gerdt von Bassewitz's Peterchens Mondfahrt.





	1. Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainbowbarfeverywhere (AnguishofMyLove)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnguishofMyLove/gifts).

> Happy Halloween! I'm sorry for not managing to get done on time, but I'll do my best to finish the rest of the chapters tomorrow
> 
> The whole fic is very experimentative as a whole, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!
> 
> Warning for non-graphic animal abuse (specifically, a crow's wing being cut off) after 0. "but he was a man where the crow was a bird, and his want for more trees than he needed went too deeply."
> 
> That aside, I kept it in the pg13 movie zone, i hope!

I.

Once upon a time, there was a man in the moon. Everyone who is somewhere was once put there. The man in the moon was put there a long, long time ago. Who was it that put him there? He is there still to this day.

Where are you now, do you know?

III.

“Sometimes I wish I could see the stars,” she says apropos of nothing, head tilted towards the dark-grey skies. The streetlights are reflected in giant shimmering puddles and the air is fresh and heavy from the rain.

Her dark-haired companion watches the brown locks framing her face gleam in their light, her face still flushed from sports, the vague clouds from her parted lips. Her throat, still clammy, bobs and her eyes shine.

“I know it’s silly,” she continues with a self-abashed laugh. “No one’s ever seen them. But still- I don’t know, I just feel like I should be able to see one, some day. Though that’s probably arrogant of me.”

Kiyoko follows Yui's gaze. The evening is cloudy; all layered in slightly different grey. She doesn’t think of it often, but there’s a longing familiarity in looking at the sky. It grips her heart and wraps it in fog. Something is there, but she’ll never see it. Kiyoko doesn’t mind this.

“I don’t think it’s silly or arrogant,” she offers. “There are things that we humans have always known, like what stars look like and that they exist. But the feeling we have when looking at the sky… I think that’s different for everyone.”

Yui meets her eyes, her cheeks very pink, and gives her a brilliant smile in return. “You’re too- too- Sometimes, you’re just too cool, Kiyoko!” 

Yui does this sometimes; words erupting like a geyser that won’t be held back. Embarrassment comes as easily to her as confidence and she carries both well. There’s a charm to her in whatever she says and her earnestness reminds Kiyoko of Daichi. She doesn’t always know what to do with it, except be helplessly endeared.

“Thank you.” She tucks a hairstrand behind her ear and smiles softly - first to herself, then inclining her head towards Yui, before adding, unusually bashful herself. “You too. You’re- very cool too.”

“Waah, you don’t have to say that just because I said it, but thank you!” Yui waves her hands about, flustered. 

"I'm not," Kiyoko says, almost confused. "You work hard and always try your best to help others. You lead your team and you were good at it, and you offered to teach me play even when we didn't know each other." She brushes her hair away and glances away before meeting Yui's eyes again with a light smile. "So I mean it, that you're cool."

They've almost arrived at the crosswalk where they have to part. Kiyoko notices they've walked slower than usual. She hopes they make it home before it gets completely dark. Already, the last car tail-lights are disappearing. They're almost completely alone. There's something peaceful about it. No one risks being out after dark. No one can be. There's discussion about how or why, just like the stars, but this too is something everyone knows, without acknowledging it. 

But right now, she focuses on Yui's presence beside her. Yui is hiding her face, her palms meeting in a triangle around her cheeks. She's bent down and her pace quickens; without her even realising, Kiyoko thinks. 

Her own cheeks are caught in a slow fire. There's something in the air. Something they've unnoticeably shifted towards and walked about as if on eggshells. 

It makes Kiyoko want to stay in this rain-clear night, even as she knows they can't do it. 

Softly, like she might destroy this frail air between them, she says, "We should hurry, before it's too late." Brushing another hair behind her ear, she adds, "See you tomorrow?" 

"Yes!" Yui takes Kiyoko's gloved hand in both of hers and squeezes it like she wants the same; to stay in this moment, to reassure herself of the reality of it. Her eyes gleam with determination. "Yes, I'll meet you tomorrow!" 

Kiyoko's face, still all too warm, heats up again. She looks down at their clasped hands, only for Yui to let go, as if burned. 

"Sorry about that," she says, glancing up at her with her hands balled just above her ears. "But please! Please come and meet me after class tomorrow! Ah, if you have the time before preparing the boys' training, of course, I mean-"

"Of course." Kiyoko lowers her hand, still looking at Yui softly. Her stomach swells with warmth like it might as well be spring. She wants to know why Yui wants to meet her. She wants to clasp their hands again, she wants to talk to her now, but-

It's too much of a risk. They can't afford to get home too late. More than anything, Kiyoko wants Yui to be safe. 

"I'll be glad to meet you tomorrow."

"It's a promise!" 

And the puddles reflect their crossed pinkies, wreathed in streetlamp-light. 

0.

Some things get left by the wayside; before any once upon a time and after any happily ever after. If there is one constant, it's that of happenings, reaching all the way forwards and backwards and coming 'round and 'round again. 

Things too great to know, things too small to see. Things etched into the fabric of the universe and the things that are lost in there. Everything has come from something and everything is going somewhere; as a tunnel of mirrors, on and on. Anything can happen. 

Does that excite you, or does it make you scared? 

Heave-ho! A tree fell, then another. The trees were felled and cut and quartered. A thief had come to the forest. He had a wooden cart and made the trees small enough to fit. Birds flew, squirrels ran, swallowed by the dark. Here their home was, small on a cart. 

One didn’t flee. A dark shadow, it flew at the wood-thief and scratched his face and hacked him with its beak. But it wasn't a shadow. It was a simple crow, who was too brave and too angry to let him do the same to the crow's home. 

The thief bled, and the thief hurt, but he was a man where the crow was a bird, and his want for more trees than he needed went too deeply. So he pulled out a knife and sliced. 

The knife hit feathers and the knife hit bone. The crow bled more than the man and hopped away, regarding him vengefully. At the thief's feet lied a crow-wing. 

But the crow was clever and knew the forest's ways that the thief had disregarded in his want. The shadows his cart's torch drew grew deeper and darker, though he did not see. And from these shadows emerged the Fairy of the Night. 

IV. 

Yui arrives home with anticipation and nervousness and excitement coiling in her stomach. Her cheeks haven't stopped burning since she parted ways with Kiyoko. Her mom even checked if she had a fever, how embarrassing! 

Burying her face in her pillow, she thinks this might be actually more intense than her huge middle-school crush on Daichi. 

It's just-! It would be fine if it was just Kiyoko's beauty. Or just how well they understood each other, back when they first really talked in the gym. Or just any number of things.

But with everything at once, with Kiyoko's quiet concentration and laser-focus and steadfast kindness and, her smiles? 

Yui has always been all too in touch with her feelings. With Daichi too, she noticed very quickly when her feelings started to shift, though she wasn't sure at first. He'd been her first ever crush. Now she didn't even have that; she knows this butterfly sensation and its well of affection. Maybe that's why everything feels faster, clearer. Or maybe it's just that you don't lo- l-, argh, love the same way twice. 

Again, she buries her face into her pillow until the feelings wash over her and she feels less like yelling them from the rooftops. Then she rolls over and smiles at the ceiling helplessly, before jumping up and leaning against the window. 

There's an energy inside her that won't be contained. She wonders if it's just the prospect of confessing.

She'd been telling the truth; for a long time now, she's felt that she would see the stars some day, with the same surety that she knew they existed. There's something fateful in the air. 

Of course people have tried to stay up to see what would happen. What happened is that you'd fall asleep. It's just outside that you couldn't fall asleep, unless-

Well, she isn't sure. There are a lot of rumors about it, in that way local folk beliefs spread, all smoke-like. It's not something you talk about it, because to talk about something has power. It can keep things at bay and just as well invite them in. Or so another of these things goes. 

But something calls her to the window. To look up at the sky, like she could see them any minute now.

And as she watches, full darkness engulfs the town. The grey clouds part to reveal a gentle silver glow. The moon. Half of it. 

Yui can't breathe. One hand pressed to the window, the other to her mouth, she can only stare up at it. 

It looks just like the vague childish picture that everyone has of the moon and yet different. Farther away. More mysterious. 

And beside it, lights sprinkle the sky like sugar cubes on a cake. They're everywhere! Smaller, bigger, twinkling and gleaming. Still she searches the sky, like she's looking for something in particular in between this sea of lights. 

She's barely aware of her windows opening before her. There it is, what's drawing her in! A star that looks like the rest. But there's something about it, something that calls to her… 

It feels, somehow, that this star shines just for her. 

IV. 

Would you choose to be a hero? 

0.

It's not that the Night-Fairy is cruel; but she has never, in all of existence, been known to be lenient. 

She took the thief with his cart of dead wood that he'd wanted so, and she placed him very far away, where his hunger could never reach anything at all. 

He was not the first, but he would be the last. How many more do you think awaited him there? 

The Fairy of the Night had had enough of thieves and those who harmed the natural order of her land. She took the night in one hand, ready to rip it away from the day, but saw the bleeding crow. Seeing means knowing. Having seen the crow, she knew its story. 

The Night-Fairy wasn't cruel; with a glance, the crow was whole again, but for its missing wing. 

Small things often get lost between the workings of greater powers. It’s just the way it is. The crow's wing was very lost now. Like the thief, it was so far away the crow could never reach it; not once night parted from day. 

Do you remember? Neither was she ever lenient. The Night-Fairy wanted the thief punished more than she wanted the crow whole. The crow had wanted to protect that home more than the crow had wanted to stay safe. Everything was even and accounted for.

But for its innocence and bravery, she would give the crow one single chance. 

II. 

The gym smells of rubber and sweat. It’s almost embarrassingly nostalgic.

It’s also off-puttingly empty; it feels both an eternity and just days ago that she trained here with her team. Yui breathes in. At this point, she doesn’t know if wanting to see Daichi was an excuse to go in here again or if how badly she missed playing was in part from her feelings. Either way, when the light still shone against the deep-blue summer evening sky when she was leaving from her studying group, she couldn’t help but take a look inside. 

Only the manager is still here, cradling a volleyball beside its cart thoughtfully, like she got lost in thoughts while cleaning up. She looks up at Yui with those very blue eyes. Yui’s never so much cared about looks, but the boys’ team’s manager is undeniably beautiful.

“Hi, good evening,” Yui greets, smiling just a little awkwardly. “Sorry to disturb you. I’m Michimiya Yui, a senior from the girls’ team and when I saw there was still someone in here this late, I just got so nostalgic! You know?”

The manager regards her with that same thoughtfulness for a moment; long enough Yui almost gets self-conscious like she hasn’t been in years. She was a self-confident kid and it carried her through the uncertainties of middle-school until she came out of it with more self-awareness.

“Yes… I think I know,” the manager finally says. Her voice is quiet and so pleasant Yui finds herself thinking she could make a good radio speaker. “I’m Shimizu Kiyoko and also a third year. Though I don’t play.. So it’s probably different for you.”

“That doesn’t matter! You’re still part of the team, right? And to be here this late… You must really care about them. Whether you play or not, knowing it’s your last year-” Yui pauses, realising that she’s accidentaly gone into captain mode to another team’s manager. “That still makes you feel everything attached with graduating, right?”

“Right,” Shimizu says, her gaze somehow both far away and intensely focused on her. The ball is still clasped in her hands. “You’re very keen, Michimiya-san. You must’ve been a very good captain. That was you, wasn’t it?”

“Ahh, you’re too nice.” Yui waves her hands, flustered. “I just went and projected on you a little. And you don’t need to call me so formally! I mean, we’re in the same year. Oh yes! Since I’m here already, can I help you put everything away?”

“Alright, then call me Kiyoko too. I’m just about done, so no need, but thank you.” Kiyoko shifts the ball in her hands, glancing at it. “It’s what you said… Since it’s the final year, I can’t help feeling that I have to use this time to the fullest, that I have to do more. It must be even worse for you.” 

Yui tilts her head backwards, laughing a little. “Weirdly, yes. We’re not in the competition anymore, so I had to stop practising a while ago, but I still feel like I should be playing volleyball with everyone.”

Kiyoko inclines her head. “I’m sure you can still take part in training when you have the time between studying.” She smiles at Yui in a way that touches her heart. “But it’s nice to talk about this.”

“The third year syndrome, eh?” Yui smiles back. “They wouldn’t mind, but I don’t really want to hang on when they’re finding their dynamic without their old senpais. It’s just… Strange. Volleyball was such a big part of my life, so it’s weird not to play at all anymore. I guess in a way, I’m going cold turkey with it!”

“It won’t be forever,” Kiyoko says with surprising certainty. “You’ll play again, I’m sure. The way you love it… it’s something admirable. Graduation won’t keep you from it forever.”

It’s with that earnest reassurance, the gym lights sharply bright above them, that Yui realises she’s never talked about this with anyone this way. Her fellow third-year teammates… They get it, in a wordless way. There are steps to this conversation they skip because they’re all on the same page already. Their hope for the future is colored by similar worries and doubts. 

She swallows hard as her eyes grow hot and misty despite herself. “Thank you, Kiyoko. The boys are really lucky to have you as a manager!” Yui slaps her cheeks. “Though it won’t be the same, I definitely won’t give up on volleyball!”

Kiyoko’s smile grows softer still. “I’m glad, Michimiya.” She throws the volleyball into the cart at last, somehow managing it in a measured, elegant way.

“I don’t want to keep you, but… How about you, Kiyoko? Will you keep being a manager? Or play yourself, or in another sport? Ah, or nothing at all. It’s not like you have to join a club!” Though Kiyoko somehow didn’t seem the type to not be in a club.

“You’re not keeping me; I was already hanging behind,” she reassures. “I’ll be locking up soon, though. ...To be honest, I haven’t really thought about it yet. I like being a manager and I’ve come to love volleyball.” Kiyoko looks straight at Yui, smile still in her voice, and it feels like gravity. “When I see how much others enjoy it, I sometimes wonder what it’d be like to play. But I could never do it competitively - or any other sport that strains my leg. And I don’t want to join anything half-heartedly. Plus, I do like helping as a manager too much to give it up entirely. So I’ll most likely keep at it, after all.”

“How about playing for fun?” Yui asks, her heart aching, even though Kiyoko seems at ease with it. “If you want, I can train with you some, without anything too strenuous. I’m biased, but… I think if you want to see what it’s like to play volleyball, it’s worth to try it. Right?”

III.

Kiyoko's problem has always been that she likes straining herself. There’s an enjoyment in giving something your all. Unfortunately, that’s not always a good idea. It was easier for her to leave Track and Field behind her than keep sitting on the sidelines and hold herself back so she wouldn’t land back in physical therapy when her leg had already been pushed to the brink too often to be completely out of danger for a very long time.

She never completely abandoned exercising and isn’t in bad form for it, but there’s something different in actually playing a sport. She forces her schedule to fit in her training sessions with Yui and shape itself around the rest of her duties. Both of them are busy, so they usually only manage it once a week.

Kiyoko learns the feel of the ball on her arms by heart. She learns the difficulty of bringing the strategies she knows from years of managing in line with her body, the thrill of waiting and planning where the ball would fall, the heat of exertion and the way Yui's smiles in between matches, cheeks all flushed and hair frizzled, and bumps their shoulders together.

It’s not just training they meet for, eventually. Kiyoko invites her to eat as thanks for it and Yui returns the favor. They watch a movie Yuu was very excited for with her friends and study together, listening to Kiyoko's music. There’s a keyring Kiyoko gets her from a vacation with her family and receives a seashell from Yui in turn.

Kiyoko likes the training; she loves volleyball, in watching and in playing, but most of all, she likes spending time with Yui.

IV. 

The world is asleep and the sky is aglow. 

The night is warm and heady with a feeling she doesn’t recognise. A crow cries out in the distance. The streets aren’t empty, but she doesn’t look down to them.

Her face tilted to the sky, to her star, Yui stands. She barely feels herself. She barely feels. She’s the most complete she’s ever been. She’s never known joy like this. 

There’s a choice to bravery, to adventure. It’s thousands of choices, thousands of paths, that lead you to its point. There’s bravery in choosing to look, there’s curiosity in choosing to follow and there is kindness in choosing to help. Yui is brave and Yui is curious and Yui is kind. Yui follows. 

Yui steps on her windowsill and Yui steps beyond, and her star draws Yui in. 

III.

There is power in choices. There is power in curses and power in words. And, of course, in promises. What has power over you?

VIII.

Kiyoko feels off. Her homeroom teacher has already asked if she’s okay when she didn’t notice him calling on her and she’s wondered the same herself. It can’t be a fever, she’s checked. Maybe it’s overexertion, or the first stages of a cold. She might have to ask Yachi to cover for her - they can’t afford for her to infect anyone from the team.

Through the window, she watches fog rise and cover the buildings and trees. As if reaching her head, she can’t bring herself to concentrate like usual. And yet, even more than her usual dislike of resting at home, neither can she bring herself to even consider leaving early. There’s something Kiyoko has to stay for. It’s very important that she does.

Kiyoko stays. More classmates ask her if she’s okay. She’s warmed by their concern. She talks to Yachi, who gasps and worries. That almost clears this strange fog, this odd feeling away. But not quite. 

Kiyoko walks through the halls, restless, until she sits down to study. There’s a sensation like metallic gears scraping against each other, settling into place all wrong. Kiyoko gives up on studying and goes to the nurse at last, who finds nothing wrong with her except how sick she looks, and promptly sends her home.

On her way back, Kiyoko stops beside the gym, hearing the clangs of balls against floors and shouts, encouraging and instructing and, on occasion, argumentative. It’s familiar. Of course it is; she’s been a manager there for 3 years now.

But it’s something more than that. Something that’s missing.

Suddenly, Kiyoko feels tears on her cheeks and rust on her tongue. She doesn’t know what she cries for, only that there’s something her heart aches for. She’s never felt this way; she doesn’t know where this pain comes from or what to do with it.

So Kiyoko wipes her tears and goes home. The heavy feeling stays with her and there’s almost something like mourning when it starts to fade.


	2. Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laws of physics? In my fanfic? It's less likely than you'd think
> 
> How to reconnect with middle-school friends: go on magic quests together☆ 
> 
> That said, I'm terribly, terribly sorry for how long this is taking to finish. I hope you enjoy it, though!

I.

Everything is different at night. 

There wasn't always one man in the moon, you know. Now there is one where there were many; grasped and unloaded for their crimes, for their limitless want. Now they are gone and no trace remains; not in the day, not in the night, not anywhere at all. Some things are beyond repair.

Now he is here; their want a hundredfold, his hunger beyond compare. He ate the wood, the cart and all the stolen things that were brought along. Until only he was left; forever wanting, forever alone. The moon glowed beneath his feet, still and glassy and smooth. 

Who is the man in the moon? He is what gnaws and chews the ground beneath his very feet. This is where he has gone, where he was placed; this is what he’s made himself. What are you? And what do you become?

IV.

It’s a feeling like the view from a mountain top, like her heart’s expanding, like fresh air after a good training, like the feel of a good spike in her hand or the electric current when her team works in tandem. Like the sound of Kiyoko laughing.

Yui rises through damp clouds and gasps when a green, feathered blur of a serpent brushes against her, rocketing past her in a straight line. She laughs, helplessly, enthralled and wonders if this is what dreaming is like. 

She’s so aware of everything around her, every particle, feeling, sound! Unlike in matches, where it takes all her focus to keep up, to plan and react, she now drinks everything in.

Time flows with her; she barely feels it as she weaves her way through the stars. They whisper beside her; a sound more felt than heard. Yui knows it’s better not to pay attention to them. They won’t be offended. 

Because Yui has a destination. There’s a purpose, an anticipation to her journey. It’s like a fog has lifted from her being. Like the world has changed, or maybe she has, ever since this evening. She is not alone out here. That doesn’t scare her, but it does ring caution inside her. It’s better if no one sees Yui before she gets to her star. It’s important that no one recognise Yui.   
  


0.

The Night-Fairy’s punishments are not designed for circumvention; however, she has never, in her existence, gone back on her word. A chance she’d promised the crow and a chance the crow should have - until the passing of a thousand years. 

For the sake of this chance, she would give three boons. One - that the crow’s wing would not be harmed. Should it be found in time, it would be found hale and whole. 

Two - that its absence would never kill the crow or those who’d come after it; although no change of form would save them from its curse. 

And as for the third and hardest…  
  


IV.

Daichi makes it a point to take his own advice, usually. It’s a matter of principle - how can he ask something of others he can’t manage himself?

But it’s not exactly like he’s seen this coming when he told the team to take it easy. This sense of purpose, the hypnotic shine of a star… He could’ve ignored it, but he hadn’t. Daichi isn’t one to turn his back when he’s needed - and that is the draw, in the end. A call. For what exactly, he doesn’t know, but before he can think any better of it, he’s taken off the ground. He manages to quietly open his window before he breaks through the ceiling - he has no idea how he would’ve explained that to his parents. 

The world looks different at night, he finds. It’s no so dark as he might’ve expected, with the moon and the stars as bright as he’s used to imagine them. Everything feels more alive. He is not alone and he should not be seen. He knows this in his blood.

After the flying and all its impossibility, meeting someone else here should be the least surprising thing, and yet he’s surprised, even as it somehow rings true; this is how things should be. This isn’t a task just for himself, whatever it is.

“Michimiya?” he asks, more a remark than calling out to her. 

Still, the girl rising upwards faster more determinedly even than him turns, her face aglow in the not-so-distant starlight.

“Sawamura?” she asks in in return, her mouth agape - just as surprised to see him. Then, something like understanding dawns on her and she breaks out in a smile, nearing to him, as Daichi keeps rising. 

He marvels at her ability to control her ascent. Somehow, he knows he could be in bed again with just a thought; just one decision, but other than that, all he can do is keep rising. Somehow, he has the feeling that his choice has already been made the moment he answered that call.

“You’re here too, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling back automatically. “Although I’m not really sure what here is.”

For some reason, that makes Michimiya laugh. “Me either! But it’s kind of reassuring to hear that from you too. It’s like I’m now realising how freaky all of this actually is. I mean, of course it’s not _ normal _, but you know- Argh, it’s hard to explain, but it’s like something inside of me actually- gets what’s going on? It's weird.”

“Don't worry, I get it - I think it’s the same for me,” Daichi tells her, meaning it entirely. However strange the situation, it’s nice to see a familiar face. It’s always been easy to fall in step with Michimiya - reassuring and getting things off his chest himself. With her acting just like always, it already feels easier to adjust to whatever their task is. “Though it still bugs me not to know anything for sure.”

“Right?” Michimiya nods understandingly. “I’m just rolling with it for now, but I’m sure we’ll get some answers soon!”

“You’re dealing with this pretty well,” Daichi observes, lightly elbowing her as they fly side by side; at a slower pace, he notices. “None of that defeatist middle school attitude.”

Michimiya flusters a little. “W- well, I _ told _you your speech got through to me! And, well. After playing and being a captain as a third year, I’m not so easily faced, you know!”

Daichi laughs. He also agrees. “Sorry, comparing volleyball to even something like this just reminded me of my teammates. But you’re right, we can’t let some flying get us down.” …Some of them would actually be jealous of this, he realises with wry amusement. “Still.. We should be careful. I have a feeling this journey might be dangerous. I think there’s still a chance to turn back; maybe it would be better if you did, Michimiya.”

Michimiya shakes her head forcefully. “No! I have the same feeling, but.. It must be the same for you. You also feel that it’s important for someone that we do this, right, Sawamura? So I want to at least see what this is about. And- You sound like you don’t want to turn back either, and there’s no way I’d let you go through whatever this is alone!"

“Alright." Daichi nods. There's nothing he can say to that. “Though, if we’re going to be on some kind of magic quest together, you can call me by my first name, if you want.”

Michimiya produces some kind of muffled groan at that, pressing her knuckles to her eyes.

“You okay?” Daichi asks, not really sure how to feel about her outburst. “You don’t _ have _to do that, you know.”

“No, no! I really don’t mind,” Michimiya protests, and laughs unexpectedly. “This just really isn’t how I ever imagined getting on first name basis with you, Daichi-kun. Ah, of course you can call me Yui too!”

Daichi can’t help but join in. Point taken. “Alright, Yui-chan. Now all that’s left is actually finding out what's going on,” he adds, frowning worriedly, the temporary lightness gone.

“About that-!” Yui starts. “I don’t know if you feel it too, but I feel like we shouldn’t meet anyone other than us until we get to our- stars.” She buries her face in her hands. “Gosh, that’s weird to say out loud.”

“I agree,” Daichi says, glancing around. “We’re almost there, aren’t we? Still, we should tone it down a little, bring less attention to us.”

“Right.” Yui follows Daichi’s glance. “I also- I also think we should hurry. It’s just a feeling, but- I think it will be important we make it in time.”

Daichi halts and nods. Now this is news to him, but with everything, he’s inclined to trust Yui’s senses. “If that’s what your instincts are telling you, then we should hurry, even if that means we have to separate for some time.”

Sharing a grimmer glance than before, they go on, reaching for their stars.

  
  


0.

Stars are special. This was known once, but lost. The stars know. They remember. Their fate is bound with humans and yet they are separate. The stars are whole where souls are only ever half themselves. 

They are dangerous in that. The equilibrium between night and day is a fragile thing, but most of all, a great thing. 

And it’s very easy to be lost and crushed in between the workings of the great.

  
  


V.

Yui grasps her star in her hand and bathes in its light. It doesn’t so much whisper as remember, as think, as feel. What she thought clarity in her flight now seems like sleepwalking. Everyone in this world has a star and this is hers and it reflects her- her very soul. She knows what happens at night now, the two sides to an existence that can never connect.

People she knows that lead completely different lives with the sunset and have no idea about it. People that become something else entirely, like that dragon, like spirits, like gods. 

She opens her eyes, barely having registered closing them and tastes the night on her tongue. Her head is still buzzing with this connection. She looks down on her hand and sees it wreathed in light; hidden beyond recognisability. 

She understands now why it’s so important no one know her real- her earth self here. She understands why she can’t know who she is at night. It’s impossible to be two things at once. If someone who knows her remembered after seeing her- they’d lose themselves. They’d break apart. Yui can’t let that happen; neither can her star. The only reason she can even see all of this is- Well, Yui still isn’t too clear on that. But soon she’ll meet the one they’re supposed to help.

If you decide to, her star sings, reminding her. It’s your choice. But both of them know: her choice was set already when she stepped out of that window. If it’s to help someone- if it’s this important- There’s no question that Yui will take the risk.

For now, she leaves it behind, still wreathed in light; their connection muted, fading, but present for now, and flies to find Daichi. 

  
  


V.

There is power in recognition. There's danger in it, too. 

Would you rather meet a stranger? Would you rather forget? 

VI.

A tail of lightning, impossibly bright and impossibly fast, and it’s hurtling straight at the both of them. Before Yui can do anything, even scream, she’s pushed away, floating backwards into space. There’s a panic that Daichi will get hit and get hurt or worse, all because he protected her.

But it stops right ahead of them and solidifies into a fox and a crow, studying them intensely. Yui promises herself to never be too late, to be helpless like this again.

The kitsu- no, the nogitsune has one dark tail and bushy ears over his equally dark bedhead that spills over his kimono patterned in dark blue waves and silvery streaks. The crow rests on his shoulder, larger than any Yui has ever seen, with feathering darker than the night and fog-grey tips. And, most glaringly, only one wing.

Yui has flown past a dragon, she’s beholden a star that whispered in her head, and yet there’s a kind of surprise in this worlds’ strangers acknowledging them.

“Who’d have thought,” rasps the old crow, “someone actually came.”

“Of course,” the kitsune draws out; with respect, but more than that, with pride. “Our resident cat god foresaw it, after all.” Then he turns to them, smiling wrily. “Don’t look so scared. We weren’t going to crash you, you know. I’m good at what I do.”

Daichi exhales, soft and doubtful. At least he seems to be okay. But there’s something strange in the way he looks at them; like they’re ghosts he knows. Yui too, feels something from them. A purpose. They are the reason they’re here. She wonders if this is what Daichi senses.

The crow scoffs, but doesn’t argue it. “That youngster is more powerful than he knows what to do with. The old bakeneko sent you so I’d owe him, didn’t he?”

“How suspicious!” The nogitsune exclaims. “Aren’t we cats known for our kindness?”

“I’ve known you cats before you were even a thought,” says the crow, “and no, you aren’t. But give him my thanks anyway - of course I’ll pay my dues, if this works out.”

“Well, we won’t say no to that,” the nogitsune replies, smooth and just a little disquieted. “But, lord crow, we do want to help you. A rivalry with flightless crows is no fun at all, after all.”

Crows and cats? Rivalry? That sounds familiar to her. Yui’s eyes widen in realisation. She isn’t as closely connected to the boys’ team and their traditions - she’s had to put her all into the girls’ team, which gets less recognition as it is. But through her friendships and loyalty to what’s practically their sibling team, she does know some things. But that can’t be- can it? 

“I’ve gotten as much, lightning brat,” says the crow, not unkindly. “The connection between crows and cats transcends both of our lifetimes. That is another reason why I will have to repay you- but for now, let’s see what will come of this.”

With that, he turns the full force of his attention to them. Daichi straightens up and stands to attention in a way Yui’s never seen him before. She mimics him, nervous despite herself. 

“So you two fledglings are the ones the stars chose as ‘fitting’?”

The word rings true and settles like a puzzle piece. This is why they’re here. 

Daichi swallows audibly beside her. “Fitting?” 

“You don’t know yet?” The crow asks, more thoughtful than disparaging. Still, it presses down on Yui the certain way only her coach’s scolding had. Did Daichi just flinch? Her suspicion grows. Even the nogitsune seems affected. “Then you may not be ‘fitting’ after all. This can’t be undertaken by anyone other than who chooses to.” 

“Uhm!” Yui swallows. “We know there’s someone who needs our help and- it’s with something very important. If we don’t, something very bad will happen. That someone- that’s you, isn’t it? Uhm, lord crow. So even if we don’t know the details, if it’s nothing bad- and if we can help- Then we’ve already made our choice.”

“My feelings are the same,” Daichi adds, earnest and serious, “lord crow.”

The crow lets out a bark of a laugh. “You fledglings sure are spirited, if nothing else! You might not be here otherwise, I suppose. Hear me out then, and decide for good.”

He tells his tale; of his ancestor’s wing that was cut off and misplaced nearly a thousand years ago, the man made monster guarding it and of the Night-Fairy’s three boons.

“No one, no matter how powerful, except ones chosen by the stars can enter and leave the moon; and even that. Otherwise, I wouldn’t go around asking youngsters who are still green around the beak to do it - because don’t be fooled; that place is dangerous. If the man in the moon gets to you, you’re dead meat and if you don’t make it back in time, you won’t ever make it back - that’s what’s been passed down.”

“But it’s as you said - this task is very important to me. Lacking one wing cursed my generation with misfortune and in a year, it’ll be lost for good. If that happens, no one in my line will ever reach old age, in any form. Although,” he adds self-ironically, “it’s already too late for that for me.”

“That’s awful,” says Yui, heart-felt. “Is there really no other way?”

“What about that Night-Fairy, lord crow,” Daichi asks, “could she extend your limit in some way?”

“We’ve searched?” says the old crow, grouchy but not ill-humored. “If there is, we haven’t found one. And the Night-Fairy, even if she hadn’t disappeared millenia ago, would never go back on her words, I hear. The stars might choose differently, but still, I can only rely on those sent here.”

“We’ll do it,” Daichi says. Yui nods energetically. “We’ll lift your curse and get your wing back from the moon.”

“Thank you. Should you succeed, you’ll have the crows’ favor eternally,” says the crow-lord. “But I won’t let you fledgeling heroes just go get slaughtered if you have no chance. So,” he continues, a raucous grin in his voice, “I’ve had 3 trials prepared for you first - they should get you as ready as you can be and guide you to the moon.”

_1\. fog maze _

Everything is white-grey. Above, below, all around her. It’s like being stuck in a cloud, except somehow even less varied. Yui’s never been this disoriented before. Even when flying into the unknown, she always had a sense of everything around her. She can barely see her own glow, let alone anyone else’s.

“Yui?” she hears beside her and is nearly surprised to taste nothing other than cold, watery air on her tongue when she answers. In reaction, a hand brushes her arm and then stays there. She draws in a breath in surprise.

“There you are,” he says, relieved. Then, almost apologetically, “We’ll have to hold on not to get lost again.”

“Right! Sure, of course,” Yui says and pats the palm of the arm he’s holding towards his hand. It’s kind of ironic, she can’t help but think. There’s a time when her heart would barely be able to take this, when it would’ve tried beating its way out of her at just this kind of proximity. There’s a relief in finding she’s well and truly over him. She’s known it before, of course; otherwise, she never would’ve promised herself to confess to Kiyoko! But it’s nice to feel so utterly sure of it; to feel a familiar friendship grow over her old emotions.

They wander the fog. Yui doesn’t even feel time pass. At first, they keep it at bay with talk. She asks about the ones they met and Daichi confirms her theory. 

“It’s difficult to see someone you know and not know at the same time,” he tells her. “It’s surprisingly hard to remember sometimes, that they’re not the same. For now, it was okay, but if it went on for longer… I’d have to check myself all the time so I don’t call them like I used to or remind them of earth somehow.”

Yui nods, although he can’t see it, overcome with the thought of it, the danger they put any familiar face they meet in, and forces herself not to get caught up in it. She squeezes his hand. “It’ll be okay, even it’s difficult. They didn’t seem to recognise you and we’ll be careful. ….But then, doesn’t that mean your coach is cursed too?”

“Probably,” Daichi says grimly, after thanking her in that genuine way of his. “They’re related and the old coach said it takes effect no matter the form they’re in.”

Yui swallows. A life to protect is a heavy burden. To have it be someone she knows, no matter how distant… She can’t imagine how Daichi must feel.

“But like you said,” Daichi continues, his smile audible, “it’ll be okay. We just won’t let it come to that.”

“That’s right!” says Yui, feeling better for his confidence. She’s always admired that about him. They talk about less wrought topics for a while - volleyball and school, mostly, noticing how little they’d been in touch and vowing to keep in contact better. 

In time, they run out of topics and move in silence, as if the fog swallowed anything they might say. It gets harder to believe in an exit when everything looks the same, feels the same. Are they even moving? Yui hadn’t been sure what she expected when they were dropped off and told that they’d have to make it the rest of the way on their own, that this would be their trial, but not this. She catches herself every time she starts to lose hope and focuses.

Suddenly, Daichi starts to tug her ahead faster. “Something is lighter there, I think we’re getting closer!” he explains, excited. Yui sees it too, now that she knows to look for it, hint of silver amidst the grey, and is cautiously excited with it. They follow its trace, faster and faster now that they are no longer alone in same-looking nothingness.  
  


_2\. brave thunder _

Hard rain tears at them as soon as they leave. It’s everywhere; an onslaught refusing to let up. Shielding his eyes, he spies a dark mass ahead of them, pierced intermittently with bright flashes. A growl rolls through the air, loud enough to shake the earth. He doesn’t even immediately recognise it as thunder.

Daichi almost misses the cool sameness of the fog. He exchanges a look with Yui, despite not being able to see her under the star’s disguise, her hands brought up in a triangle against the rain’s assault.

“There! I think,” she shouts against the rain before the thunder can start up again, "I think we need to go there!"

Daichi nods and puts up a thumbs up to show he’s heard her. She mirrors it and, bracing against the rain, they move. Daichi’s soaked already. His wet clothes make it harder to move. He can’t afford to get sick here, he tells his body sternly. But their goal is too important to let that stop him.

The rain is harder than any he’s felt before, but compared to the fog, it’s seconds before they’re standing in front of the heavy thundercloud ahead. It knocks the breath out of him. He can’t tear his eyes away. It terrifies him and he doesn’t know why.

It goes beyond fear of death, beyond the visceral terror of stepping into this cesspool of chaos and lightning. It’s every failure he’s ever had. It’s the fear of never managing anything; of failing his team, failing this task and dooming his current and past coaches, failing everybody. It’s the doubt; even though he trusts his perception, even though nothing has ever felt as real as this, it’s so nothing like his own reality he can’t help wondering if this is just what dreaming is like after all. 

Water pools in his shoes and Yui still glows beside him. The thunder calls again and it sounds nearly like a voice. Like a steady presence, guarding the court at their back. 

“We,” starts Yui, choked up and nearly drowned out, before shouting, “We have to go through this cloud!”

He feels it too now; he's no longer lost in terror. Whatever happens, they have to make it through it.

Together, they throw themselves right in the middle of it.

_3\. wind chases_

Yui steps on a wooden path, easy as going through a doorway. That in itself is unexpected enough to make her jump. No thunder, no rain, no lightning, not even wet clothes to remind her of what they’d passed - just a too fresh scent in the air and the bridge-like road ahead of them.

“This should be the third one,” Daichi says encouragingly, his breathing slightly ragged. “We’re almost done.”

Yui smiles, but before she can reply she feels a breeze behind them. She has a bad feeling and turns around. The breeze is circling, then another, going faster and faster until Yui’s hair is flying and the jacket she hadn’t gotten around to taking off flutters like it wants to take off.

Time feels frozen for a moment as she watches it grow into a whirlwind; then, with a wordless understanding, they take off. Daichi claps her shoulder as he passes to the far right of the path, leading his own whirlwind follower away from her. She mirrors him on her side. It’s almost like a scarier version of tag.

Yui’s steps feel impossibly loud to her. She doesn’t look back, but she can feel the growingly violent storm pull at her and stealing her breath. She runs like she’s never run before, with volleyball filled with short sprints and pacing herself during long distance exercises. She feels at the edge of giving out the entire time, her heart beat too hard, too fast, her sides killing her at the sudden movement, shooting forward mindlessly as fear and adrenaline coursed through her. She’s peripherally aware Daichi’s still going but can’t afford to check on him closer.

Suddenly, the wind breezes over her and whirls forwards at a pace- was her mind tricking her or was it slower now?

“Keep running!” shouts someone, loud and clear even with the winds so near, voice rough and friendly. "And jump!"

Yui trusts it and quickens her pace impossibly. They've already passed two trials. They can do this. 

Together, they leap at the lightning and behind them, she spots a grey-bald figure seeming their age waving. 

  
  
  


I.

The moon still shines, though no more smooth. The man still hungers, though no more alone. 

There was a need to stop the moon's destruction and there was a need to cage the man. Necessity is a mother; it birthes things. Things that cease to exist elsewhere need replacing. The night shapes itself to need; the forms within shift to fit the night. 

That is the story of the moon rabbit. To exist for one purpose; does it know happiness this way, do you think? 

  
  
  


VII.

The winds drop them with unexpected gentleness and part with a last flourish, wild and free once more. They land in similar crouches - one hand on ground they’ve never felt before. The moon spreads out before them - uniform in its pale, emptiness, all dusty-smooth and aglow, and large. 

They’ve seen many things they would’ve thought impossible tonight and yet, it’s impossible not to stick in open-mouthed marvel for at least a moment. 

“We’ll have to search all of this before sunrise?” Yui asks quietly, staring out into the waxen vastness.

“Then we’d better get to it,” Daichi reasons, his voice much the same. They meet eyes and find equal determination in the other. Their path at once doesn’t seem quite so daunting. 

Yui nods. “Let’s search together - I have the feeling it would be bad to split up.”

They’ve both grown to trust their instincts and Yui’s especially and so they wander the moon, their pace quick, scouring for hints of black or of someone else’s presence; the man in the moon or their unknown ally. They don't talk. Even being here feels like tempting fate. Their surroundings all look the same, safe for the occasional hill, crevice, dark creek in the distance. It makes them exchange wary looks and take turns to lower themselves and check inside.

There are feelings you can’t help even if you know better; there’s a smallness, a lostness inherent in their journey, in being alone where no human has walked before. But they have travelled blind in endless fog and come out on the other end. They do not waver and they search on.

They find nothing. But they are found. That too can end a search.

Daichi inches forward to shield Yui, whose hands are fist, tense and readied to fight, to run, a healthy distance from the arriver. Pallid dust swirls and settles to reveal no one other than the man in the moon they’ve now heard about.

He’s a strange sight; the strangest being how human he looks. Unmistakable yet remarkably unremarkable. His clothes, old-fashioned, ratty and long-sleeved, hang about him like an afterthought; as does his skin. There’s a distinctiveness to his plain features; glaring and too real, the clarity of a nightmare’s instant. It’s impossible to tear your eyes from his teeth. His nails are tinted yellow as he waves at them, no lines in his palms; a forgotten thing.

“Guests? What a rare sight.” He smiles at them, close-mouthed, his voice friendly and terribly normal; just a regular agelessly middle-aged person. “Who might you children be?”

Are his teeth there if they are hidden? Is he human if he looks it? 

“Hello,” Daichi greets. He doesn't give their names. “We’re only searching for something here.”

“Sorry to bother you,” Yui adds, telling him as little as can be. “We’ll be right on our way.”

Their minds are murky; slow and suspended with nameless fear. And yet, the crow lords advice is clear and bright in their memory: seek out the one who guards him if you can, but if you've the bad luck to meet him by yourselves...

Be courteous to him, polite; don’t ask for anything that isn’t offered to you and most of all - never trust him to let you leave, never trust him to get close because at the first chance, he will bite you and that will be your end.

The moon-man’s smile broadens; his lips sag and widen like they have a mind of their own, like they want to open up and let the teeth outside. “There’s no need to be in such a hurry. Mayhaps I can help your search.” He reaches behind his upper body sleeves, drenching up something sizable as his smile following his eyes into shrewdness. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

From his fingers dangles a wing; blacker than the night, longer than his arm - limb where it was once powerful. Blood clings to it, bright and red like a timeless wound. 

Yui gasps despite herself. Daichi draws in a sharp breath. It’s too sudden, too casual a cruelty. “Yes,” he says, an unintended thickness to his voice. “That’s what we’re here for.”

“Please,” Yui implores, clasping her hands, “please, it's very important to someone. You need to give it back."

The man in the moon leans forward, his eyes gleaming hungrily. "Do I? Well, what will you give me for it?" 

"Yui," Daichi mutters under his breath. "Be careful."

Don't ask him for anything he hasn't offered; never trust him - and never, ever come close. 

Yui struts out her chin, not backing down and searches her invisible pockets, bringing out a set of keys. Her eyes widen, before narrowing in determination. She separates the keychain and offers the rest out. "This."

The moon-man shakes his head deplorefully, watching them probingly. "I'm afraid that won't be enough." At last, he bares his teeth. "…But for the beginning, I'll take it."

There is terror in his too vibrant normalcy, in his cruel greed. It's enough to freeze somebody in place. But they have faced thunderclouds and lightning and found it more fearsome than him.

"Let me," Daichi says, holding Yui back. She starts to protest, but a wordless understanding settles between them. 

She nods, worried and resolute, and hands him her keys. "Be careful."

Daichi doesn't trust him, but Daichi comes closer still, taking measured steps. He's prepared for the man in the moon to jump at him in spite of any deal. The wing still dangles from his hands as his mouth opens, and Daichi is three steps away.

That's when he throws the keys, quick and forceful - right at the moon-man's forehead, and dashes ahead. 

The moon-man yelps; the moon-man is shocked at their audacity to fight back and all the more angry for it. The wing is grasped tightly in his hand, and Daichi for all his training cannot pull it out. He recovers all too quickly in his anger, snarls and lunges at Daichi.

Teeth clash. Nails tear. The man in the moon tastes nothing as the wing is wrung from his hands.

Jerked backwards by his lapels, Daichi stumbles; sharp pain in his arm and success in his hand. Yui pulls him with her, already running. She has vowed to not be too late to help him and she's kept it. He turns around and sprints along, breaking away from Yui. They won’t split up, but they won’t make this an easy chase either; they’ve run from and chased winds. 

But the winds hadn’t wanted them harm. The man in the moon very badly wants to harm them. He is a thing all made up of want and they are made of humans. They didn’t have to run from the winds forever, and the man in the moon has all the time in the world.

The night is nearly light, their task done; they’ve gotten what they came for. With just a thought, they can be back in their homes. But the moon-man is faster than a thought, so they can’t afford to stop for one. But neither can they outrun him.

Sallow ground passes beneath them, unreal and too quick. The only real thing is the other, running on the other side like a mirror, the wing in Daichi’s hands and the human-skinned monster behind them. Time passes, unfelt. 

The monster pounces and the monster lands. Daichi falls and Yui stops, and Yui turns, yelling his name. She is loud and he is mute with panic. 

The man in the moon doesn’t lunge, this time. He doesn’t get the chance. Something rams into him, silver and swift. Daichi feels them impact on the ground. His wound starts to hurt again; he sees it for the first time, a narrow clawed line, deeper than expected. The nails disguise monstrous sharpness.

Stunned, they watch the fray. Their saviour is tall and ivory, pale and hard as the moon, with long rabbit ears that move with grace and bright-blue familiar eye. The moon-rabbit is stunning as a miracle.

“Go!” she tells them, standing before them, poised to attack.

“Are you- Are you going to be okay?” Yui asks, dripping with concern. She understands now what Daichi meant; recognising and yet being able to say nothing of it- it’s a difficult thing.

“He can’t harm me,” the moon rabbit says, glancing at her, “but he can hurt you. That’s why you need to leave.”

“Yui,” Daichi says, serious. “The sky.”

Night is fading fast around them. He hates having to leave someone behind and so does she; but if they don’t go now, it’ll be too late to come back.

“Right,” Yui says, shaking more than she had in their encounter with the monster. Her eyes are glued to the moon-rabbit - to Kiyoko. “Let’s go.”

  
  
  


VII.

There’s a tragedy to being left behind. 

  
  
  


VIII.

“What do you mean, you don’t remember your captain?!” 

  
  
  
  


IX.

Teeth clang on the moon rabbit’s arm, hard enough to scatter dust around them. She doesn’t feel pain in her moon-stone skin, but it’s not very pleasant. She prefers longer melee; but with someone to protect, she has no choice.

It still freezes her insides, lodges a scream inside her throat in an emotion she’s never felt before; this person isn’t supposed to be here anymore. And yet here the starlit girl came and here she stayed.

She pummels the man in the moon, but he hangs on to her arm. Their eyes meet for just a moment and there is a shrewd look in his. Just as sudden as he’d attacked, he lets go; landing hard to their side and dashing towards the one he could harm.

Whirling around, the moon rabbit sees her startle and freeze in half a running, half a fighting stance, and throws herself in between them. The moon rabbit has seen the damage he can do; someone as slight as that girl would die with just one bite. She can’t let that happen. She can’t risk fighting like this. 

The moon rabbit has never run or hidden; she’s occupied the man with her unbreakable skin so he could never set his teeth on anything else. Such is her duty. But now, she grasps his sides with both arms and hurls him so far they can no longer see him.

“We can’t stay here,” she tells the girl. “He’ll come back.”

The star-girl nods; her outline grim, but determined. The moon rabbit finds herself liking her. Another novel emotion. She doesn’t dwell on it; just as she doesn’t dwell on how she can’t think of the name the girl’s companion had called out or the one the girl had when the moon-man had clawed at her neck, although it itches at her. The thing about the moon rabbit is that she never forgets her priorities. And right now, that’s keeping the visitor safe.

“I’ll do my best to keep up with you,” said visitor says, a smile in her voice despite her bleak situation. The light around her flickers like a dying thing.

“It’ll be faster to take you,” the moon rabbit says. 

The girl pauses and nods. She always talks like she’s just shy of adding something; a precipice between familiarity and distance. “Okay. Though I hate to cause you even more trouble.”

The moon rabbit stays quiet. There’s too much she could answer and it isn’t the time. 

So she gathers her up in her arms, slight as a bird against her looming form. The moon rabbit has never been aware of being taller than humans; the only things she’d registered about herself were fighting attributes and how best to use them. She wonders if the girl would be warm, if she could feel it. She embraces her so barely a glow escapes, keeping her upright and close, and leaps, taking care to land softly, leaving no trace of them. She makes her way from one side to the other, confusing any trail and watching out for a follower, before sliding down into a dark cave of a hole.

“You should be safe here for now - but you can’t stay too long. When are you leaving again?”

Again, the lights around her flicker. The moon rabbit starts to wonder if they can go out. If they will. She knows no pain, but there’s a deep unhappiness in the starry silhouette as the girl breathes in with the sharpness of a sob.

“I don’t know,” she says, jarringly hopeless. “I don’t know if I can ever go back.”

Her ear twitches and her insides twist, pulling at her as if mirroring the girl’s pain. “Because you stayed,” the moon rabbit continues hollowly, “to protect me.”

The girl wipes at her face and presses her hands to it like she might disappear otherwise. “I don’t regret it, you know. I would do it all over again.” The moon-rabbit knows little of hearts and in the way the girl’s voice shakes, she can hear it breaking. “I just wish-” She gives a laugh as bitter as a tear. “I just wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

She draws her hands around herself, and there’s the itch again; to touch her, to soak in her hurt so she’d smile again. But that isn’t within the moon-rabbit’s power. “Why?” She asks tonelessly instead, digging deeper than she’d meant to. Maybe what she could bury inside herself had hit the hard bottom and nothing more fit. Or maybe, it’s the girl’s hurt reflecting off of her. “You don’t know me at all. This is all I exist for - I wouldn’t have been hurt.”

The star-girl raises her head and puts her hands on the moon-rabbit’s arms. “Ki- How can you say this, you’re worth so much more than that! I may- I may not know you, but still.. You helped us, so of course I’d want to help you in return.”

“Thank you,” she says thickly, something inside her gaping and groaning, and very aware of the weightless hands on her. “But it would’ve still been better if you’d left with your friend.”

“Maybe.” The girl inclines her head, pain still evident in her voice, but calmer now. “I don’t know why, but when that- thing attacked you, I felt- I felt as if you’d be gone forever if I didn’t do anything. Maybe I was wrong and you would’ve been fine, but- but I couldn’t take that risk.” She wipes at her face again, words crumbling in her mouth as the moon-rabbit can feel her stare through her shimmering guise. “I just couldn’t, even if it doesn’t make sense.”

With that said, the girl drops her arms. The moon-rabbit can tell she’s retreating into her pain. This isn’t nothing. This decision is hurting the girl deeper than she can imagine. And yet, she said she doesn't regret it. That she’d do it again. The moon-rabbit doesn’t feel pain and yet- There’s hurt in her insides, in her head. She’s not supposed to know this girl and yet, she’d do this for her.

The moon-rabbit doesn’t forget her priorities. It’s not in her nature. And her next step is clearer than moonlight. “I can’t help you get back to your home,” she says, “but I will help you get to those who might. Whatever happens, you won’t have to stay here forever.”

She will help her. She will keep her safe. The moon-rabbit has never had a debt or a desire, and now she will have two. From a hilt at her side, she takes her dagger. It is of moon-stone and there’s nothing in this world that can destroy it. She doesn’t know much, but she does know its value - it’s beyond any price. The moon-rabbit cuts off a lock of stone-hair with it and places both into the girl’s hands and closes them around it. 

“Take this with you and go climb the tallest mountain. There’s a river of stars that will pass you by - wait for it, and then jump. You have to reach it, no matter what. It’ll take you through the weather courts - through snow, through fog, rain, wind and then thunder, before moving to the ends of this universe. Walk through all of these courts and offer the lock to who can tell you the one to help you back home and the dagger to the one who can do it." She smiles at the girl. It feels foreign and hesitant on her features. "I'll keep the man in the moon away, and I won't disappear so easily."

The silence connecting them feels like a bond. Then, the starlit girl throws her arms around her and holds her tight and close. Carefully, the moon-rabbit wraps her arms around her shoulders in return. She thinks eternities could pass, the world might end and through it all, she'd never forget this moment. 

"I want to meet you again," the star-girl whispers into her shin and raises her head, a slow smile in her voice, "I will meet you again. Just as we- ah, you'll see." 

Letting go, she steps back and bows with newfound energy. "Thank you so much!” She slaps her cheeks in rising, “I won’t lose hope anymore! I won’t waste your help and I’ll do my best to get back home. And… this won’t be a goodbye for good. So I won’t say that, but- until we meet again.” Through the flickering stars, the girl smiles like she has a secret. “It’s a promise.”

The itch becomes a pressure, pushing against her skin from within. The moon-rabbit has never made a promise before and no one has made one to her, threats aside. Except for her foe and passing sprites, she’s always been alone. She’s never felt this as much as she does now. But there’s a certainty to the star-girl’s words. Even though they’re no longer touching- even though she might as well be already gone- the moon-rabbit doesn’t feel all that lonely. They’ll meet again. Time passes without notice on the moon, flowing neither fast nor slow. The moon-rabbit could wait centuries for her. 

So the moon-rabbit smiles again and it no longer feels like a stranger on her face, and she repeats, “It’s a promise.”

Once more, they embrace; they plot, for the last time, time-stopping tenderness in the girl’s shape, voice, touch - and then they part. 

“You have to make it,” the moon-rabbit tells her, “the stream won’t pass by again for a long time” and “go this way - go as fast as you can and don’t stop for anything at all” and “yes, I’ll be safe, I promise.”

Now the moon-rabbit has two promises. They weigh on her comfortingly. She watches the star-girl leave, glowing in the distance in a light warmer than the moon’s.

A new grace, a new power about her, she closes her eyes and listens - and then, shoots away with such speed she’s never had before. The moon is shivering; so the man in the moon had chosen his meal. 

As soon as she’s listened, it stops. He knows the moon as well as she; of course he’s noticed the girl now, journeying by herself. But the moon-rabbit wants to protect the girl more than the man wants to devour her. She catches him in the plains before the highest peak; a quarter’s path away from it and she catches him by surprise. Her body crashes into his mid-leap, its full power behind it. He snarls at her; now that the moon-rabbit has met others of his form, she can confidently say, like a monster.

“You can’t stop me forever, moon-rabbit.” His bared teeth are a mockery of a smile. “Know what they say about servants and masters? You’ve made your choice and you’ll make it again - and in time, I’ll leave no place for you to hide her away. It’s just a matter. Of. Time.”

The moon-rabbit has no need for words. All she needed to say, she’s told the girl. She throws herself at him again; punching and kicking and punching without pause. She can no longer attack from the distance and that’s fine with her. Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees a familiar wisp of a glow move. 

The man in the moon punches back and kicks back. He swipes at her legs, throwing her off to the side momentarily and sprinting forwards. The moon-rabbit lands on her feet and chases him down; the star-girl’s shape at the peak, looking upwards, seared into her eyes. She shoves the man from behind and keeps him on the ground with her weight. 

There’s a shift in the atmosphere; the star-stream is drawing close. The moon-man stills below her. “So that’s your plan,” he says, derisive. Blood drips from his mouth. His right cheek is a bruise. His injuries are always all too striking before they close up. He’s a remainder, a parody, a curse of a person. “It won’t work either way. This place is a prison - no way she’ll ever reach. 

The moon-rabbit smiles down at him, and throws another punch, right at his temple. The ground beneath them cracks. She is not as careful as usual. She doesn’t care. It’s a chance to glance at the mountain top without risking escape. The river is right above the star-girl now, wild and flickering, fiery and dark. The moon-rabbit feels her eyes on her, from all that distance. Then, the girl crouches and jumps like she’s taking flight, arms raised, right into the fray.

Relief shudders through the moon-rabbit harder than any attack. She’s weak with it. The moon-man throws her off and she can’t bring herself to care. He dashes ahead and she follows; finding empty ground, as expected. Like the star-girl was never here.

A smile flutters through the moon-rabbit, and she tells him, “You were right - this place is a prison. But it isn’t hers.”

The moon-man rages. Veins surface all over his face and he screams like colliding planets. He turns his mad eyes to her, wounds closing up like his skin was consuming itself. His voice is hate and foreboding. “But you’re still here, little moon-rabbit.”

She braces for his attack, unsurprised. She’s expected him to let the anger from an escaped prey out on her. There’s an almost comfort in it.

It doesn’t come. Instead, his eyes are on the ground. He smiles unsettlingly, bending to pick something up and dangles it from his hand. He sing-songs, “Look what we have here!”

It shines with the moon’s cool glow, too bright to be discernible at first. Spots of color at its edges, a mountain within. And writing, big-lettered and somehow cheerful in its pale yellow.

Nothing pushes more from under the moon-rabbit’s skin; nothing itches. Instead, the pressure turns inside and presses down. She’s hit rock bottom; nothing more will be buried. “Yui!” her companion had called the girl, shouting as he fell. That crack in the moon’s surface. Her world is at edge, hair’s width from falling. If she looks at this any more, it will.

The monster on the moon flaunts it, letting the keychain hang over his all too human mouth. If he eats this, she’ll be free of this. Her world will stitch itself back together.

He lets it fall.

Quick as light, she snatches it from the air, teeth clanging under her hand. The moon-rabbit understands now, what it’s like to doom yourself without regret. It’d be better if she hadn’t done this, maybe, but to lose this precious thing, she feels as deeply set as her duty, means something would be irreparably gone. She’s made her choice. Her world is fracturing. She can’t stop it now, but she can hold it off.

The moon-rabbit runs, that dearest doom of a thing in hand. She doesn’t look at it. The moon-man screams behind her, breathing down her neck. She’s not used to running, but she knows the moon. She uses every trick, every ounce of strength, until she no longer hears him at her back. The moon-rabbit keeps moving and doesn’t look at that thing. She listens for the monster and hides as well as she can, trying hole after hole, one deeper and darker than the next.

The moon-rabbit could’ve kept going this way forever, once upon a time. But her world is splintering and fraying at the edges. She stops, eventually. She looks down, eventually.

In the dark of her hiding spot, moon-stone cracks and moon-stone shatters; and Shimizu Kiyoko is left; staring at her gift, alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh this style was influenced by me reading Daniel Mallory Ortberg's Children's Stories Made Horrific while plotting to a frankly embarrassing degree


End file.
